The Gift
by gwennie3579
Summary: Will/Finn slash. Finn has a present for Mr. Schue. But what's inside the box? You tell me! Not in the same 'verse as "The Long and Winding Road." Just some holiday fluff with a teensy touch of angst and some language .


**Disclaimer:** If I owned any of them, I'd trade them in for the Season One Part One DVD on Tuesday. No joke. Except for Chris Colfer. Him, I'd keep. Also, there's slashy goodness ahead, of the slightly more mature variety. Don't like it, stop reading now.

**A/N:** Just a little ramble I scribbled down while I was visiting the family for the holidays. A little more "instant gratification," than my current story, and not in the same world as _The Long and Winding Road_. My Christmas gift to all the Will/Finn shippers – enjoy!

It's Christmas Eve, and Will is alone. He sits in the darkness and stares at the tree in the corner, too uncaring to even plug in the lights. He's been sitting in the same spot for at least two hours, watching as the watery grey light spilling through the window slowly died, leaving him in shadow.

It's Christmas Eve, and Terri is gone, staying at her sister's for an undetermined amount of time. Emma won't return his calls, and he suspects her letter of resignation is still on Figgins' desk.

Will shakes off the thoughts of two failed relationships, and instead thinks of his Glee kids, smiling for the first time in two days as he remembers their win at sectionals. He misses them fiercely, and hopes they're each enjoying the long Christmas break.

He thinks of one of his kids in particular, though he tries to fight against it. In his mind, he can see a pair of deep, soulful eyes and a slow grin that's brighter than sunshine. He can remember the feel of those strong, solid arms around him, can remember the head resting on his shoulder when Finn first found out about Quinn's pregnancy, as the boy sought comfort the only place he could.

But mostly, Will thinks of the way he feels whenever Finn is near; the way his heart races like a teenager, and his palms go all clammy and his mouth gets dry. He thinks of the combined excitement and guilty revulsion he feels when Finn turns that dark gaze on him...

Will shakes his head, trying to clear it of these thoughts, but he can't help but be haunted by the image of Finn confronting Noah and Quinn after learning the truth about the baby. He'll never be able to forget the look of betrayal in the boy's face, the abject hurt and confusion. He also can't forget the way he longed to comfort Finn, to take him in his arms and kiss away all the pain –

Will is startled by the knock at the door. He is both annoyed and relieved that his thoughts were interrupted, and though he's tempted to ignore the intruder, his curiosity gets the best of him. He can't imagine who would be stopping by for a visit on Christmas Even, and he whispers a quiet prayer on his way to the door that it isn't Terri, come to see him with reconciliation on her mind.

He peers through the peephole, and his heart leaps into his throat. Finn looks nervous as he fidgets in the hall, his cheeks and nose flushed with cold, snowflakes melting in his hair. He bites his lip as he casts a glance behind him, and Will feels a quiver of desire stir low in his belly.

Firmly pushing down _that _feeling, Will pulls open the door, breath catching only a little when he takes in the boy's tall frame, and the wrapped gift clutched in his hands.

"Finn," Will says, glad he can keep the tremor out of his voice. "What are you...?"

"I, uh... I wanted to drop this off," Finn says, holding up the gaily decorated package. "Are you... are you busy?"

"Oh. Uh, no," Will says, holding the door open. "Not at all. Please... come in."

Finn steps inside, looking around nervously, and hands Will the present.

"Thanks," he says, with a slightly strained smile. "I wasn't sure you'd be here..."

"Oh. Well, yeah," Will says, leading Finn into the living room and putting the package down on a side table before flipping on a lamp. "I, uh... I didn't..." Will looks away. He'd been about to say, "I didn't have anywhere to go," but luckily catches himself before the words can slip out.

Instead, he looks at Finn with a questioning smile. "What are you doing out on a night like this? It must be below zero out there."

"Coldest Christmas Eve in ten years," Finn says, unwinding the long blue scarf around his neck. "Just saw it on the news."

"And you came all the way over here just to give me a gift?" Will says, hating himself for the need he can hear in his voice.

Finn shrugs. "I just needed to get out of the house," he says, peeling off his gloves and tossing them onto the recliner. Will watches each movement, transfixed, until Finn's words sink in.

"It's Christmas Eve." And though he hates to say it, "You ought to be home with your family."

Finn shakes his head. "Quinn's there and I... I can't."

"Oh," Will says, surprised. "What does your mom –"

"She doesn't know. We haven't told her yet. Besides, Quinn doesn't have anywhere to go."

Will swallows over the lump that's risen in his throat. He's always been moved by Finn's goodness, by his unswerving ability to do the right thing, and now is no different.

"That's very mature of you, Finn," he says, knowing the words fall flat, but also knowing he can't say what he really means.

Finn laughs humorlessly. "Mature or not, I had to get the hell outta there, and I..."

"You what?"

Finn steps closer, and Will can see his pupils dilate in the dim light. Will wants nothing more than to fall into those eyes, right or wrong be damned.

"I didn't want to be alone," Finn whispers, inching so close Will can smell the combination of soap and snow on his skin.

"Oh," Will says, not sure how to respond.

"And then I realized," Finn continues in a low, almost hypnotizing voice, "I didn't have to be."

"Oh," Will says again, trying to get his bearings. He's completely thrown by Finn's proximity, by the electric crackle that seems to fill the air between them. "Of course not. You're more than welcome –"

"And neither do you."

"What?" Will says, pulling up short. Fin looks at him from under a thick fringe of lashes, and Will has to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from yanking the boy into his arms.

"You're here," Finn says, raising a hand and resting it gently on Will's chest. Will, suddenly, paralyzed, watches him silently, breathing hard. He can feel the heat of Finn's hand through the thin cotton of his t-shirt, and a chill races through him.

"I thought you might be," Finn goes on, running his hand up Will's shoulder, lightly cupping his neck. "And if you were, I wanted to be here, too. With you."

"Finn," Will breathes, unable to look away, unable to focus on anything but the feeling of Finn's fingertips moving softly along the skin at the nape of his neck.

"Don't send me home," Finn whispers, and Will can read his vulnerability plain as day on his face. He's so innocent, even in the midst of his seduction – and Will now knows that's exactly what this is – and that is his ultimate undoing.

Will reaches out, taking Finn's free hand, and tugs him forward, pulling the boy's lithe, athletic body against his own. Finn is already hard, and Will knows without a doubt that he's going to hell. He also knows it's too late to start caring about a silly little thing like his eternal damnation.

Finn gasps, and Will crushes his mouth against the younger man's, swallowing the moan that follows as Finn presses himself impossibly close. His lips are cold, but the inside of his mouth is deliciously hot, as Will discovers when he lets his tongue explore. Finn tastes like chocolate and tooth paste, and he kisses like a heroine in one of Terri's romance novels – all passion and need and reckless abandon.

"Will," he says roughly, trying on the unfamiliar name as he trails a line of fiery kisses up his teacher's jaw, stopping to bite down on Will's earlobe in a move that is just shy of painful, and entirely erotic.

The part of Will's brain that should be kicking in to stop this madness has shut own entirely, as he tips his head to the side to allow the boy greater access. Finn's hands slide down his back, then venture even further, reaching down to cup his ass.

"Shit," Will hisses, as his hips jerk involuntarily against the younger man's. Finn's lips find his again, and neither speak as they find a delirious, breathtaking rhythm.

An eternity or an instant later, Finn nudges Will's thigh, pressing him backward. Will pulls away, looking at the boy questioningly, taking in his flushed, sweaty face and swollen lips. Finn's eyes flicker to the bedroom door then back to Will, his uncertainty evident as he licks his lips and swallows hard.

Will knows he should stop this now, knows he should send Finn home to spend Christmas Eve with his mother, and to work things out with his girlfriend. He also knows he won't.

"Fuck," he says, watching his hands come up to unbutton Finn's shirt as if they belong to someone else. "Fuck."

Finn nods, reaching down to undo the button of Will's jeans. "Yes," he whispers, slowly pulling down the zipper. "Yes."

Finn's hand is inside his pants then, and Will can think of nothing but the feeling of that hand against his skin, and the tantalizing way Finn is running his tongue over his bottom lip. Will steps back, pulling the younger man with him. Finn reads his intent and moves with him, propelling them toward the bedroom in a tangle of limbs, the forgotten present sitting innocently on the table.


End file.
